She pedals through mist with a flask full of tea Her curls catch the wind but her spirit is free The monks drop their scrolls as she skids to a stop “Is that… a dragon?” “No, it’s Nanna, don’t flop!” The mountain rumbles, the clouds turn red She tosses a biscuit and nods her head From the cave comes a snort and a flicker of flame Crumble the Drake, he remembers her name She offers a jammy, he sniffs and he grins They seal their alliance with crumbs on their chins No saddle required, just trust and a wheel Together they ride with unstoppable zeal Down scree and shale, through echoing cries She bunny-hops boulders as Crumble flies The monks chant blessings, the valleys cheer “BMX Nanna! The legend is here!” They say she once wheelied through dragonfire rain And brewed smoky lapsang on a runaway train She’s banned from three kingdoms for biscuit excess But Pen Draig adores her, chaos and finesse Custard creams in a pouch on her hip A bourbon baton for tactical grip A jammy dodger she throws like a disc Her biscuit-based combat is daring and brisk Crumble once guarded the Emberwyrm Throne Till he sneezed on a bishop and melted the stone Now he roams with a nanny who laughs at the rules Together they’re legends in valleys and schools Past spires and stone where old legends sleep She pedals with purpose, the climb is steep No helmet, no crown, just curls in the breeze She rides with a dragon and aims to appease She pedals at dusk with the dragon in tow Their shadows stretch long in the firelight glow No crown, no medal, no pomp or parade Just biscuits and wheelies and legends remade
